Dawnflight by Kim Iverson Headlee Read Free Book Online Page B

over her shoulders and halfway down her back in carefully combed waves. The lips framing her smile were red and full. As she drew closer, Urien noticed the eyes under the long lashes were gray green, like the sea. She bore herself with a poise that radiated confidence and power.
    His heart sang.
    He barely heard the introduction, so deep was his intoxication with her exquisite beauty. Then Gyanhumara thrust out her right arm. From wrist to elbow spread an elaborate blue tattoo: a pair of birds in flight. Urien froze.
    “Greet her, son.” An elbow found Urien’s ribs, none too gently. He shot his father a scathing glance. Dumarec paid no heed. “The warrior’s way.”
    Urien’s mind reeled. Acknowledge this woman—this barbarian woman—as an equal? Lunacy! “But—”
    “Do it.” Though only a rasping whisper, the command carried the full measure of Dumarec’s authority.
    Reluctantly, Urien obeyed. As he reached for Gyanhumara’s forearm, he expected the flesh to be rough. It was not. Her skin was as smooth and supple as that of any lady he had known.
    Gowns could be fashioned to hide that bizarre design. Besides, to display bare arms beyond the bedchamber door was a scandalous breach of the rules of modesty, though not among her people, it would seem. But if everything went according to plan, she wouldn’t be living with these other Picts much longer.
    Her grip was surprisingly strong. With a smile, he imagined the private wrestling matches they would share. And he tried to picture what the rest of her looked like under the bright yellow gown.

    AT HER father’s side, cocooned in the hush of the deliciously fragrant feast hall, Gyan strode to the dais where two Dailriatanaich stood waiting. The younger man displayed a smile that was obviously meant only for her.
    “Chieftainess Gyanhumara, I am honored to present Chieftain Dumarec of Clan Móran of Dailriata.” With a glance at Dumarec, Dafydd said a few words in Breatanaiche. Gyan favored the aging Breatanach chieftain with a stately nod.
    Dafydd continued, “And his son, Urien.”
    So this was the man her father wanted her to marry.
    He was handsome, beyond doubt. His rich brown hair was boyishly unruly. The twinkling eyes seemed to laugh all by themselves. He was a wee bit taller than she was, no more than a forefinger’s length. The close-fitting, black-and-gold-patterned tunic and trews hinted at rippling muscles.
    Yet appearance and fighting skills were not everything. Her training had been clear on that point. Aside from the political advantages of making Urien her consort, she had to be sure of his heart. An unhappy marriage union often birthed more harm than good.
    No one would ever accuse the Chieftainess of Clan Argyll of not trying to give this relationship the best possible start. She offered her hand in welcome.
    Urien did not accept the greeting at first. Instead, he stared at her arm. The laughter in his eyes fled, chased away by…revulsion?
    Surely she was mistaken. Wasn’t she?
    Chieftain Dumarec prodded Urien to complete the gesture. There was no mistaking the power in Urien’s grip over the Argyll Doves. A chill crept up her spine.
    Then his face melted into a smile even more charming than his first, as though the reason for his hesitation had never existed. Maybe that was true. Maybe it lived only in her imagination.
    She returned his smile, though silently she wondered how she could judge his intentions without the benefit of private conversation. Ironic that speech, a simple thing she’d always taken for granted, had become a luxury that all the gold in Caledon could not purchase.

Chapter 5
     

    T HREE DAYS WHIRLED past in a blur of activity. Urien participated in most of Gyan’s regular training sessions, seemingly glad of the exercise after so many days in the saddle.
    The journey must have been hard on him indeed, Gyan mused. He lay sprawled at her feet. The point of the sword she had knocked from his grip rested against the